Chapter Six
Hermione Granger could take a little teasing. That being said, if another one of her classmates mentioned fire, she was going to set them on fire. It wasn't her fault that at the last game her attempt at distracting Snape from cursing Harry's broom had ended up setting four professor's robes on fire, instead of just Snape's. It had been one of the first effects on her magic that she now attributed to her pregnancy. Of course, only the boys knew that she'd been responsible, and they were sworn to secrecy.
"You know, Ron, you might want to reconsider," Hermione said flatly as she nibbled on one of the blueberry scones that served as the weekend breakfast for her and the boys. "I might just decide to turn that fiery hair of yours into real fire."
Ron visibly gulped. "Sorry, Hermione," he replied. Like all the other boys, he was lying on his bed, still in his ratty pajamas.
Well, not all the boys. Seamus had left earlier for Sunday Mass, dressed in the same suit coat and pants, though with a regular tie, as he'd worn for the Valentine's Day dinner over two weeks ago. He'd finally gotten to the point, after months of Hermione being in her wardrobe, open to the room, to put on a pair of boxers to sleep in. Hermione had moved out to sit on Harry's bed, having put aside her weekend fiction read in favor of one of the pregnancy books that her mother had sent her. She smiled her acceptance of Ron's apology.
"I don't see why you're so accepting of Snape refereeing today, Harry," Ron said. "I mean he tried to kill you last time."
"I don't think it was Snape," Harry replied, giving Hermione an excuse to look at him. He'd finally put on a little weight, after getting lectured by Madam Pomfrey. His ribs no longer showed when he had his shirt off. Right now he wore a pair of scarlet and gold pajamas that Professor McGonagall had gotten for him when she'd taken him to London for Christmas. The top was unbuttoned. "I mean, he was really nice at Christmas, and he could have got me several times then."
"You'll forgive me if I still keep my wand on him today," Hermione said, putting down her book.
"Of course I will, I don't want you to fire me," Harry replied with a big smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh you are so dead, Harry," Neville said from his bed as, Hermione stood. Her gaze kept Harry still.
"It was nice knowing you, Harry," Dean added, as Hermione climbed back on to the bed, settling across his upper legs.
"Can I have your invisibility cloak when you croak?" Ron asked. Harry wasn't going anywhere with Hermione's pinning his legs under his covers.
Hermione limbered up her fingers and attacked. Harry wasn't moving, his eyes had been totally captured by Hermione's gaze. He wasn't escaping from Hermione's traditional response. Laughter rang out in the dorm as Hermione's fingers found the right spots to execute her tickle attack. She only had so long though, before the remaining three boys would decide that Harry had served his time under her attack, and she knew it.
The sound of Harry's laughter echoed throughout the tower, driving him to near helplessness. Hermione had chosen her position well, attacking him in such a way to neutralize his response, or at least she thought she had. Somehow Harry managed to squirm loose during his laughter.
The next thing Hermione knew, Harry had returned the favor, her own laughter filling the room and threatening to cause her to loose bladder control. She fell back onto the bed, looking at the Harry's smile and hearing his laughter mingling with hers. She didn't want it to end, but her shrinking bladder capacity forced her to speak up between giggles. "Stop, Harry, I'm going to have to pee."
Harry stopped and moved back, still with a smile on his face. His face was flush, and top askew. The bottoms of his pyjamas had apparently been left behind under the covers, revealing his plain gray boxers. It was moments like this, where there seemed to not be a care in the world between them that Hermione felt most at ease.
It was not to last, as Oliver Wood poked his head into the dorm room. "Potter, time to head down to the pitch for our pre-game meeting."
There was still a chill to the air as Harry searched the pitch for the snitch. Below him the two teams' chasers worked their way back and forth across the pitch. The sound of the bats of the Weasley twins as they controlled the bludgers punctuated cheers of the crowd.
The match was against Hufflepuff, and Harry had been told that every Gryffindor was expecting Snape to be an unfair ref. In fact, Ron had actually opined that Harry might want to make sure he had a will, especially given Hermione.
Harry had greater worries than the professor with even greasier hair than usual, it was actually reflective, ruling unfairly against Gryffindor. He worried about having to go home to his aunt and uncle. He worried about Hermione having his baby. He worried that he might not be a good father. Snape was nothing, so he put his worry aside and played.
He soared up about the stands, his eyes scanning the field. His honorable opponent from Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, did likewise. He knew it would be a clean game, or at least as clean as possible. Oliver had been ambushed by Hermione, insisting that they keep the game as clean as possible. No fouls and Snape wouldn't be able to do anything ... or at least much. Snape had just called a foul for targeting the ref with a bludger on George. The shot went wide, way wide, a commentary from the usually accurate Hufflepuff chaser as to the fairness of the call.
Harry lost himself in the game, feeling the air whip by, as he rose to get a slightly better angle on a suspected sighing of the snitch. It was enough to confirm that the gold glint he was seeing wasn't a reflection off Snape's greasy hair. He dove.
There was nothing like a steep dive, especially a steep dive through traffic. Harry knew his broom, knew it's speed, knew every bit and cut he could make. He curved around Fred, he caused a Hufflepuff chaser to alter course, allowing Katie to intercept the quaffle. His hair slid off his forehead, revealing his scar, as the wind tousled his hair and robes.
As Harry approached, Snape rolled out of the way, his eyes wide. It was just in time, as Harry stretched out his arm. The snitch slapped his palm as his hand closed around it. Snape's whistle blew. "Potter has the snitch." Harry had never heard the announcement of the end of a game in such a dead panned voice.
Harry did not head down to where the crowd was gathering, with the chasers, Wood, and the twins. Instead he headed for the part of the stands where Hermione sat. Landing beside her, he said, "Would you like a ride around the Castle before heading back to the Tower?"
Hermione looked down at Harry's broom. Harry could almost see the memory of his flying in the game passing before her eyes. Then she looked up, meeting his. "No sudden moves, no dives, just smooth flying," she bargined.
"I can do that," Harry said with a big smile, mounting his broom again. Hermione climbed behind him, and enveloped him in a hug from behind. He kicked off, and began a slow ride, the long way to the castle, starting with a tour along the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.
Hedwig knew that it was going to be a while before she was sent back to Hogwarts from the Granger's House. Hermione's mother had prepared a plate of bacon, neatly cut in owl bite sizes. So she settled down on her perch in the kitchen, a chair which Mrs. Granger had remarked was Hermione's. Mr. Granger was seated at the head of the table, the Times unfolded in front of him.
"Montague, since we don't have any patients this morning, it might be a good time to talk," Mrs. Granger said. Hedwig knew that tone. She'd heard it before.
"So, are you going to finally admit that I put you back in the puddling club, Wendy?" Mr. Granger said.
"I'm only two days late, Monty," Mrs. Granger replied.
"So the baby names books were wishful thinking, again?" Mr. Granger said, turning the page, with a big smile. "Not that I'm objecting to such thinking, and actions, of course. We've always said we'd like another child, and we're not getting any younger."
Hedwig remembered carrying those books as well as quite a bit of others to Hogwarts. She'd also been at the end of Harry's bed when Hermione had declared them useless. Hedwig knew both Harry's and Hermione's choices, both male and female. She knew that they were the same, and was greatly amused at the fact that neither had told the other yet, but the names were the same.
"The books were not wishful thinking, Monty," Mrs. Granger said, before taking a deep breath. "The books were for Hermione."
"The books were for Hermione?" Mr. Granger's tone was flat, showing the anger that Hedwig knew was starting to build. "That little toe-rag, Harry Potter, despoiled my daughter."
"Genetically, yes," Mrs. Granger replied. "Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey assure me, that Hermione and Harry are, as Mcgonagall put it, blushing virgins still."
"Let me guess, another side effect of an accidental ritual," Mr. Granger said. "That excuse is growing thin. I want her pulled out." His hand impacted the table. "First it was the troll, then the binding, and let's not forget Hermione spending nearly all of January in the hospital wing, for what did they call it? hyperemesis gravidarum?"
"Yes, hyperemesis gravidarum, or to translate from the Latin, excessive vomiting due to pregnancy," Mrs. Granger replied.
In the quiet following the statement, Hedwig heard the sound of a mouse in the wall. She turned her head to locate it. Behind the refrigerator, she figured. Her eyes zoomed in on the space between the counter top and the refrigerator. If the mouse came out, it would come out there. The sound of the mouse's movement went the wrong way, and Hedwig gave up on lunch.
"How long have you known?" Mr. Granger asked, Hedwig's attention returning to the man. There was an edge to the man's tone, now.
"Since January eighth," Mrs. Granger replied, apparently unconcerned. "Hermione found out at the same time as she found out about her binding to Harry, but wanted to tell us in person about being pregnant. Unfortunately she, and I quote here, 'didn't live up to the Gryffindor Virtues.' Apparently we treated her like too much of a grown up, too soon."
Hedwig looked down at the plate of bacon. Somehow she'd eaten half of it without noticing.
"Sounds to me like she doth protest too much," Mr. Granger huffed. "I don't like it. And don't tell me that this Harry Potter is an innocent victim too. He's the boy that made my daughter pregnant." His hand came down on the table again.
"Blushing virgins, Monty, they're both blushing virgins," Mrs. Granger replied.
"I said don't tell me," Mr. Granger mumbled.
"Anyway, Hermione has a few questions for you in her last letter," Mrs. Granger said. "I think it's high time you wrote to her, for the first time since October. Hedwig will be happy to deliver it, I'm sure."
There was a bit of silence, as Hedwig nodded, and directed her gaze at Mr. Granger. She knew that Hermione wanted a letter from her father.
"I'll write her ... and Harry ... but allow me to pretend for just a little while longer that she's still Daddy's little girl."
Looking at Mr. Granger's expression, Hedwig wondered if muggles could write howlers.
The private alcoves were all filled in the Common Room when Harry and Hermione returned from their flight and wanted to talk to their fellow Gryffindor first years. With the still going on celebration for the Quidditch win, it was also a bit loud. So they gathered up in the boy's dorm.
As Ron sat on his bed, nibbling on some crisps that he'd snared before Harry and Hermione had gathered the First-Year Gryffindors, he mused that he wasn't quite as close to Harry as he once had been. Before November, and Hermione moving into the dorm, it would have been him, if anyone that would have been along when Harry encountered Snape warning Quirrel.
He was pretty sure that his moment of introspection, not to mention the fact that he hadn't blown up when Fred, or was it George, calling him little ronnie-kins, was due to the single glass of wine that Seamus had provided him in celebration of the Quidditch win. A smile crossed his face, as he recalled that he'd found the spell for Seamus.
As his bed was the closest to Harry's bed, that meant that he wasn't alone on his bed. Seamus and Parvati were both seated, Parvati in the middle, on his bed, where as Lavender and Sally-Anne were both seated on Neville's bed. Dean was sitting on Neville's trunk. Harry and Hermione were both laying back on Harry's bed. It looked like they were waiting on someone to respond to. Ron figured that as both of their oldest friend, it was his duty. "Well, You-Know-Who has got the stone."
"What do you mean, has got the stone?" Neville replied. "What stone?"
"The one Dumbledore borrowed from his good friend Nicholas Flamel," Hermione replied.
"There is no way that Professor Quirrel can stand up to Snape," Ron opined. Not many people stood up to Snape. Of all his brothers, only Percy had somehow managed to even get on the good side of Snape.
"Professor Snape," Hermione automatically corrected.
"Well, he'd have to get past that three headed dog, right?" Lavender said, playing with her blond curls. Ron had noticed that she tended to do that a lot. If she didn't have anything in either hand, one or the other would end up playing with he curls. "What's it called?"
"A cerberus, which according to Greek mythology guarded the gates of the underworld," Sally-Anne said. Ron was surprised that Sally-Anne was the one to answer. Normally it would be Hermione. "What? Someone has to answer before the ten count rule. I did a report on Hades last year."
Harry had gotten tired of Hermione answering way to many questions, way too quickly, in Charms before anyone else had, the week before. He'd told Hermione that she wasn't allowed to raise her hand in class again until she counted to ten, slowly. Ron had been glad of it, and with the new confidence conveyed upon him by his increased class rank, he'd managed to be the beneficiary of it a few times.
"Any way, a cerberus is not exactly the best protection," Sally-Anne continued. "They are a prime example of the wisdom that music soothes the savage beast. A little music, perhaps Seamus singing that soul my oh piece, and they'll go right to sleep."
"It's O Sole Mio, and I really don't have the voice for that one yet," Seamus said, practically singing the title. "It requires a tenor voice, and I should only be so lucky to have my voice break that way. Maybe Ava Maria, though I think you might actually sign that one better, Parvati."
"I did it once, on a dare," Parvati protested. "And somehow it got back to my sister. You know how annoying it is for your sister to tease you? Of course not. No sisters. You are not so unlucky."
"You're good, and have a wonderful voice!" Seamus gushed. It was becoming a regular theme every time it was brought up. "You've got to sing! There are some great pieces from Byrd's Mass for Three Voices ..."
"From his Mass, anything but the Mass music," Parvati replied. Her gaze looking heavenward, Ron could see the exasperation on her face.
"Okay," Seamus said. "How about Edelweiss? If not that, then perhaps Rule Britannia."
"Why don't you throw in the Star Spangled Banner for good measure," Parvati shot back.
"No one can sing the Star Spangled Banner," Dean interrupted. "We get it you don't want to sing."
Parvati looked down at her bare feet. "Well, actually, I've always wanted to sing Rule Britannia, especially with a big chorus and orchestra behind me, at Royal Albert Hall," she blushed. "It's one of those few things that Padma says I'm a fool for even thinking I could. I intend to prove her wrong."
The expression on Parvati's face was one of determination, and Ron knew that you'd have to be a fool to bet against Parvati ever meeting that goal. Then to Ron's surprise, she broke into the song. It was in a clear voice, melodic, and commanding.
"When Britain first, at heaven's command,
arose from out the azure main,
arose, arose, arose from out the azure main,
this was the charter, the charter of the land.
And guardian angels sang this strain ..."
Her voice trailed off. There was a few moments of silence, and then from the common room below, the chorus began.
"Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, shall be slaves
"Come on, Parvati, I think we found your chorus," Harry said. "And we really should rejoin the party."
"Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, shall be slaves.
Professor Minerva McGonagall strolled into the staff room. Despite the abysmal refereeing by Severus, she was in a rather good mood. Her lions had won, and she'd seen Harry and Hermione flying on his broom between the towers of Hogwarts. She'd just come from checking on the after game party in her common room, and it had been surprisingly calm. She was somewhat disappointed that her house was singing that British song, but had to admit that Parvati did have a rather good voice.
Now, though, despite her good mood, she had a role she had to play. There was no way she was going to let Severus get away with that kind of officiating. When she was done with him, he'd be wishing that he was the referee who had caused the infamous riot at the Portree/Chudley game in '74. Minerva had been there, and as a Pride partisan, firmly believed that her team had been robbed of the game. On staff, only Poppy knew that she'd been part of the rioters.
The staff room was currently configured for regular work, not a staff meeting. Minerva took her usual seat in a rather comfortable wing-back chair, and picked up the hot tea with just a touch of cream, no whiskey this time. By the time exam rolled around, her tea would be more whiskey than tea. She hoped it might be different this year. Her first years were all doing well. If her projections were right, there were going to be just one Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin in the top ten this month in that year. Ron Weasley's grades had actually shocked his older twin brothers into improving as well. They didn't have the time to get up to Ron and Percy range grades, as they called them, but their improved work had been rather impressive.
The door opened, and the bat of the dungeons entered, his robes billowing behind him. Minerva had to admit that the Slytherin Head had his image down. "Severus Snape," she said sharply. "I expected fair and impartial judgement from you today."
Severus Snape was a Professor, having just received tenure the past summer. He had also been one of Minerva's students. Seven years of schooling, training his reaction to her scolding, had not worn off, especially given her position as Deputy Headmistress. He still cringed at her tone. "Yes, Professor McGonagall," he replied habitably.
"It will not happen again," Minerva said. "I will not have it be said that the worst officiating since '74 occurred at Hogwarts. You are lucky that the two teams decided to implement their own judgement in shooting the penalty shots you called. I don't think you made a single justified call against my Gryffindors, and since every single penalty shot taken by the Hufflepuffs went way wide, I think we can conclusively say that they agreed."
Snape slumped into a wooden chair across from Minerva. She could tell that he knew he was in the wrong. He was not going to try to justify his actions, even though there were other professors in the staff room.
"I don't know what has gotten into you this year," Minerva continued. "I swear, this year you've gone down hill. You've always been a very strict teacher, which given your class is a very good thing. You've been harsh against my Gryffindors, who were your rivals when you were in school, but you had moderated that as time progressed. This year, however, you have backslid and more. It will not continue. Understood."
"Yes ma'am," Snape replied, contrite for the moment under her glare.
"I hope that I shall not have to speak about this again," Minerva said. Then after a moment's silence, she continued. "Now, I've spoken to Albus about your idea to maintain and expand the by skill split of the current first years this September. We've been a little worried about the additional expense, especially if it's expanded to the current second through fourth years, as you've proposed. However, it has shown marked improvement among all the students, and a couple members of the Board have indicated that they are for expanding it, to the point of funding additional positions, including your idea of reviving the paid Student Assistant job you once held, as well as an adjunct instructor.
"They would like to see how it would work with another class, so I will be doing skill based class splits for Transfiguration for the second years next September. If it goes well, I shall expand it further in the Winter Term next year. The governors have agreed that I shall be getting a much needed assistant as well. The governors have asked that you chose the Student Assistant for Potions from the current fifth years."
"I already have a name for you," Snape said, with a surprising smirk gracing his face. "Of all the fifth years I have in Potions this year, there is only one who refuses to be intimidated. Only one of them would I actually trust alone in my personal lab. I do not believe anyone will have an objection to Percy Weasley."
Minerva considered the choice for a moment. He was the top student in his year, but he was also soon to be a father, which would complicate things. Percy and Penny were also the only married couple currently attending Hogwarts, though not the only married students. He was always very prepared for class, even when he was dealing with the results of his dalliance with Penny. He was usually quite helpful with the young years. His efforts to help the current second years the pervious year had been why he'd been made prefect. "I have no objection, at least. You may have to convince Penny Weasley, though."
"Not a problem," Snape declared. "If it were not for her condition, she would be my second choice. I shall talk to her, though. I need to stop by Gryffindor Tower, soon, anyway. I have discovered that Lily's Charms notes for her first year were left at Spinner's End. I think that Mr. Potter may find them useful. I understand from our Gamekeeper, that he has little of his parents."